Commence Holiday Season

As much as I love the holidays (and I do, kind of an immense amount bordering on intense) this is indeed a very hard time of year to be childless. It starts with Halloween - all of the incredibly cute children dressed up for the festivities, and none of them are ours. We 'like' everyone else's cute-kid-in-a-costume photos on Facebook but we have none to add to the mix. Instead, all I had to contribute was a photo of me dressed up for Halloween and for the first time I felt kind of weird about sharing it. Because the day before I had posted a picture of me from Halloween past, circa 1986, and I had also posted a picture of me on Instagram, age 1.5, sitting on a pumpkin in a pumpkin patch. Everyone was posting pictures of their kids and I was posting pictures of myself. It felt strange and it made me feel even more self conscious of the fact that we don't have a child. I felt like I didn't belong, like I had a huge "Childless" sticker on my forehead. I realize that much of this feeling was most likely generated internally and not really obvious or apparent from an outside perspective but still. It was hard to shake the feeling of "otherness".

And it's just the beginning. People are taking family photos in preparation for their holiday cards. Soon, people will begin their various holiday rituals with their families, many of which are kid-centric. And thanks to social media, it's a daily onslaught of reminders that we don't belong to that particular "club" yet and we don't really know when our membership will arrive.

We should have a toddler. Our baby would be 2.5 - this holiday season might have very well been the one he or she would have begun to anticipate Christmas with some level of understanding and excitement. But most people don't know we should have a toddler. Most people don't know how hard it is for us to go through this time of year and still generate merriment and joy for ourselves. Most people don't understand how hard it is for us to see, day after day, countless memories being made with children who are not ours.

It's hard year-round. But it's a whole other level of difficulty during the holidays. And while we're so thankful that the family and friends who do know about our loss and our challenging journey to parenthood try their best to empathize with us and keep our baby in their hearts this time of year, no one can truly know what it's like unless you've experienced it yourself.

Each year, I am determined not to let my emotions dampen my holiday spirit. Each year, I am resolved to enjoy the holidays to the full extent possible - we have initiated new traditions and continue the traditions that we've always enjoyed, and anxiously await the time when we can include our own children. And I believe that time is coming. Next year, following Jason's graduation and our move to wherever it is that he gets a job, we will be back on the road to baby. And this time, we're not stopping until we turn our family of two into a family of three (or more, who knows?). Time is no longer a luxury, nor is it on our side. So, whether through IVF, surrogacy, or adoption, we won't stop trying until we successfully begin our family. And I can't tell you how exciting that prospect is - but I would be remiss if I didn't also admit how terrified we are. Because this journey can be excruciatingly hard and the reality is that we could face some real challenges ahead - perhaps even more so than we already have. But it's time. We're ready. We have no idea how long it will take or where the road will lead but we do know this: we'll get there together.